"for everyone who has seen their life in ruins, and found the courage to dream regardless of it"

Tag Archives: time

One of the most basic, daunting questions you ask yourself, if you were ever raped and got through it: when(or if) should I tell this person?

It could be your partner, your family, a close friend. There are people that don’t tell anybody for decades. In my experience, holding the hard things in myself only ends up blowing up in my face later.

Anyway, I never had much of an answer to this question before, but I do have a tip now. I am in no way an expert, but if you need an extra opinion while you consider what to do, here is mine: relax, breathe, and follow your intuition. You will know the exact time.

* Disclaimer: this is not for those of you considering to press charges officially. Obviously this is a fully different decision that you have to make for yourself. This is for those of you that didn’t, for any reason, and sooner or later you do not want to feel alone in it anymore, and you want the people in your life to know about it. Some people anyway.

1.

For those of you new to my blog, I was raped 5 years ago. For the most part I have recovered, I believe, although there are still some sore spots to work through. There is also a lot of chaos I created in the way of dealing with it, in my life, things that I missed, and I am still trying to sort all that out.

In the time until now, I have told several people, including some guys I dated right after, selected close friends, my current long-term partner, and a few friends which I do not know that well, but I am already getting close with. It sounds like a lot, but I guess it was my way of dealing with things when there was too much that I couldn’t deal with.

But here is the thing: I didn’t tell my parents yet. I am pretty close with my mom and it’s an odd feeling that she doesn’t know about this part of my life. It also felt necessary at some point. Now, so many years later, and starting to actually catch up to my present, I am starting to feel I’d like her to know, and the reasons not to tell her are starting to feel more obsolete.

But still, thinking about telling her, there is the usual clatter of thoughts- remember that one?

You sitting across from someone you care about, and your stomach sinking at the idea of saying those words, telling that story. That inadequate feeling- is it really ME saying those things, ME that this happened to? The panic at the idea of how they will react, your brain going in all directions and over every scenario. The wondering if you can even get the words out…And the even bigger panic wondering how they will act after that. And whether you can handle their reaction, whatever it is. It’s a head spin, for sure.

When I started out this blog, I went deeply into research of the issue (i.e. rape, depression, PTSD) and I was trying to encompass everything. Taking care of emotions, going through memories, understanding my reactions, taking care of myself physically, and doing my work.

In other words, I was doing what every busy adult has understood to be a faulty concept- the one that you can do all you want to do in all aspects of your life.

Lately, I’m living 2 lives. I have done that before, I have. Only then, I was living my real life- job, classes and friends and all that, dreaming about a life I couldn’t get, because I thought I was damaged forever. And those 2 lives, the made cracks in me, and in those cracks I began to look back in the past, and I couldn’t be in denial anymore.

I am starting to live 2 lives again, only this time, it isn’t a bad thing. Things in life are always the same, but it depends on where we are coming from how we are going to view them. Last time I was lost. May be looking back at the past wasn’t such a bad thing, because I needed to do it, but it did hurt. All these time, 2 years, I kept thinking, I didn’t have faith. I lost my faith, I lost my ability to dream.

I didn’t lose my ability to dream. I always knew exactly what direction I wanted to take, and felt no remorse for taking it, even when it was hard. Now, even in my worst moments, even when I couldn’t make sense of things, I still knew what direction I want to take. I just couldn’t do it.

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QUOTES from a random post:

" So, I watched TV series instead. Because they were convenient, and colorful, and different, and because they covered that faceless, bottomless emptiness left after that guy had taken all he wanted from my body, and after I had thrown away all that he left of my soul."
---"Coping Mechanisms: TV addictions and Other Disasters", The Road to Recovery